The Soulmate Connection
by a-little-glimmer
Summary: soulmate au where everything that appears on your soulmate's skin also appears on your own skin: Phil thinks that when he finds his soulmate everything will just fall into place and he'll live happily ever after with him. But what happens when his soulmate isn't out of the closet yet, and has no plans to come out due to having a homophobic family? hs au. eventual phan.
1. Chapter 1

"Guys, guys, guess what!" Dillon rushes across the cafeteria to the table in a state of pure excitement, and he slips into an open seat between Phil and Matt.

"Oh my god, what?!" Phil mimics his shrill tone with a roll of his eyes, yet a smile begins to break onto his face. It was impossible not to be infected by Dillon's glinting grin.

"Look at what showed up on my arm last period!" Dillon shoves his wrist in front of Phil and angles it around the table to the rest of their friends, proudly showing off the beautiful floral design drawn across his forearm. Most of the boys don't seem to care that much, only muttering a "cool" or "congratulations", but Phil had always been a hopeless romantic as well as Dillon, and they feed off each other's excitement.

"That's amazing, Dil," Phil says, grabbing his wrist and rubbing at the dark curls of ink, but of course, not one of them smudges.

"I know! I finally got connected!"

Every child had been taught from an early age what it means to be connected, and what to do after you notice it. Phil had been given his explanation from his parents when he was around 7 years old, after he'd asked his mother how she'd met his father. It was a very cute story, how she'd noticed him doodling on his arm in college and watched the markings appear on her own arm as well.

You see, to be connected means that your body, your skin, is tied through some force (love, perhaps) to your soulmate. Everything that appears on your soulmate's skin also appears on your own skin. Cuts, bruises, ink stains. You name it. It never happens until you both are ready to meet, and most people don't get connected until high school or college. There's one girl Phil knows, Rachel, who'd been connected in 6th grade, but she still hasn't met her soulmate. In health class last year, as a sophomore, Phil's teacher had briefly touched on (what's very creatively known as) the Soulmate Connection. Rachel was in his class, and asked about her situation, why she hadn't met her soulmate yet. The teacher had said that just because you get connected, it only means the two of you are ready to meet, but it doesn't signify you'll meet any time soon. Which sucks.

"Do you think I'll meet her soon?" Dillon asks Phil, running his hand across his wrist again.

"Who knows?" Phil says, glancing at Rachel a few tables away. He turns back and looks at the drawing on Dillon's arm again. Something about it seemed so... familiar. He peers at it closer. "Hold on..." He looks up at Dillon with a smile. "I know who your soulmate is."

At this, all the boys at the table look at Phil. "Wait, really?" Matt asks him. "You know who Dillon's soulmate is?"

"Yeah. I saw her doodling that on her arm in Lit last period," Phil responds.

"Oh my god. Who is it? Wait, I don't want to know. Yes I do. No. Wait," Dillon struggles to come up with an answer. "If the universe thinks I'm ready, I'm ready." He takes a deep breath. "Who's my soulmate?"

Phil laughs at Dillon's rambling. "You really want to know?"

"Yes!"

"Okay, it's that girl who was in our math class in 8th grade, I think. Isabel Sloan," Phil says. At this, Dillon's eyebrows raise, and he turns to Phil.

"Isabel? Really?" He confirms.

"I'm sure of it. Why, do you not like her?" Phil asks Dillon.

"I don't know." He leans back on the bench thoughtfully, crossing his arms. "I've never really thought she would be my soulmate. She's really pretty, though," Dillon remarks. "Smart, too. Remember how she'd always get in deep conversations with Mrs. Chapman about math problems?" He gets this faraway look in his eyes as he remembers Isabel in the math class. "Oh, yeah, and when we'd play 24 if we had extra time after class? We'd always hit the card at the same time and touch each other's hand." Dillon smiles as he comes back to the here and now of the cafeteria, three years after that memory.

"You guys are definitely meant to be," another guy at the table, Ethan, says.

"Really? You think so?" Dillon grins.

"Yeah. You're both fuckin' nerds," Ethan laughs, and most of the other guys at the table laugh with him.

In spite of himself, Phil smiles and pokes Dillon a bit until he smiles as well. "Alright, alright, knock it off," Dillon says, still smiling.

"Hey, she's right over there," Matt points her out across the crowded cafeteria. "Why don't you go talk to her?"

Dillon's eyes widen. "I can't just go talk to her!" He exclaims.

"Why not?"

"I.. I.. I don't know! What would I even say?"

"'Hey, I'm your soulmate?'" Matt offers dryly.

Dillon just looks at him. "I can't say that!"

Matt rolls his eyes. "Compliment her drawing, then. That way she'll know you're her soulmate."

"Hey, that's actually a good idea," Phil says.

"Don't act so surprised," Matt narrows his eyes at Phil.

"Alright, I'm going," Dillon says with a deep breath and stands up. The table of boys watch as Dillon crosses the cafeteria to where Isabel is sitting, and the two start talking.

"So, who do you think your soulmate is?" Matt asks Phil.

"I honestly have no idea."

"Wouldn't it be crazy if she was sitting right in this cafeteria, too?"

As Matt wonders on about his own soulmate, Phil silently corrects the 'she' to a 'he'.

A/N: hey guys! i hope you liked this teensy fic. i'm planning on adding to it, i have several ideas on what i could do with it already, but i'd love to hear any ideas you guys have. i know dan wasn't in this chapter, but i just wanted to introduce the idea and see how it goes. i know its a writing prompt that's been on the internet for a while, but idk who the original creator is. lmk what you think about this fic and if you want me to continue it, and ofc fav or follow if you want to as well! ~l


	2. Chapter 2

phil's pov

I'm forced to listen to Dillon's excited chattering for the rest of the period once he comes back to the lunch table. I'm happy for him, of course, but really - how much is one person expected to endure? After nearly 20 more minutes of Dillon's yammering on about Isabel, dates he's planning, Isabel, dates he's planning, and Isabel, and even _more_ dates he's planning, I'm two seconds away from exploding at him to just _shut up_ (in the nicest way possible, of course), when Matt beats me to it:

"For the love of God, Dillon, just shut _up_ already!" He exclaims.

Dillon looks at him with wide eyes for a moment, then relaxes with a sheepish grin. "Sorry, I guess I got a little carried away there, huh?"

A chorus of muttered agreements resound around the table. We turn to different topics, and it seems as if the topic of soulmates is forgotten.

But I don't forget.

The rest of the school doesn't, either. Every single class I go to has at least one group of students talking about the news Isabel and Dillon are soulmates. Word travels fast in a high school, I guess. But the talk quickly turns from being happy for Isabel and Dillon to everyone wondering about their own soulmates, and everyone else's, for that matter, and I think about Matt's words during lunch and wonder about my soulmate.

When I first started high school, I began to notice all the guys so much more than I did before, and girls never interested me the way they interested my friends. It's not like I hide my sexuality; if someone asked, I'd tell them I was gay, but it's not like I proclaim it to the world. Hell, you heard Matt earlier; he thinks my soulmate would be a woman. My body runs cold during class as the thought occurs to me - would the universe even match me with a guy? I hear people talk so much shit about 'traditional families'. Would the universe pair me with a woman, someone I would've even be attracted to? I make a mental note to look up queer soulmate couples later.

When I finally go home after school, I get caught up in homework and studying with friends, so it isn't until late, a few hours before midnight, that I sit down at my desk to go on my laptop. I pull up Google and mull over what to enter for a few seconds, before I finally settle on 'gay soulmates'. I exhale a sigh of relief as thousands of matches load up, posts on tumblr and the like of cute connection stories for queer people.

Now that I know it's actually possible for me to be with a guy, I almost _feel_ my soul relax as I sit back in my chair, as if every atom in my body finally meshes the way they should. And that's when I notice it - the bruise on my knee, just visible underneath my desk. The bruise I have no recollection of getting.

My breath catches, but before I get my hopes up, I sift through the past few days, searching for any memory of me falling or running into something that could bruise my knee. Nothing.

This could be my soulmate's.

I could be connected.

Was that what it felt like? Being connected? I _do_ feel ready to meet him, especially after Googling my concerns to satisfy that worried part of myself. Cautiously, I lightly press a fingertip down on the mottled purple skin of my knee. Upon feeling no pain, I press even harder. Nothing.

A smile splits onto my face. I'm connected. This bruise is my soulmate's, appearing on my own flesh to alert me to the fact I'm finally ready to meet him. Unable to help myself, I rise from my chair and do a ridiculous little dance around my room, my mind running wild with thoughts of who he could be and what color his hair is and what color his eyes are and what he's _like_. I finally understand what Dillon must've been feeling at lunch.

I sit back down at my desk, performing a gleeful spin of the wheeled chair before steadying myself at the desk. Now I have to figure out my next step. I just know I can't just sit here until fate takes it's toll and we randomly bump into each other on the street. I've heard things like that happening before, but I've also heard stories about people taking matters into their own hands - following notes their soulmate's left on their hands about meeting places, writing down phone numbers, things like that. But, come on, it's 11 o'clock at night; I can't exactly run outside and meet my soulmate at the local McDonald's. So instead, I grab a Sharpie and scrawl across the back of my hand: 'hey'.

* * *

dan's pov

I'm sitting at my desk, trying to crank out a last-minute homework assignment that's due tomorrow, when I notice the ink starting to appear on the back of my hand. First an 'h', then an 'e', and then the 'y'. My next breath gets stuck in my throat as I literally choke on nothing after seeing the simple, messy handwriting form the word on my hand. I stay there, just stunned for a few seconds, before I come to my senses and scramble around for a marker to write my soulmate back.

I hurriedly think of what greeting to write ('hello' is too formal, but is 'hi' too casual?!) before deciding to just mimic his: 'hey'. I feel the excitement bubbling up inside of me as I watch the simple phrase appear across my forearm: "how are you?"

I gulp down my jitters as I write a reply on my other arm: "good, you?" and it only takes seconds before my soulmate scribbles out: "amazing, thanks." The events unfolding feel so surreal I have no idea what to write next, when I see him writing more words to appear on the top of my arm: "so it looks like we're soulmates." I grin and write out: "looks that way", then add a smiley face for a little extra pizzazz.

No new writing appears on my arm for several seconds, and I feel a horrible sinking sensation as I realize our short-lived conversation is over. And then I notice the writing appearing on my thigh. God, is he lucky I'm only wearing boxers. I read the writing as it appears, taking a minute for him to scrawl everything down. My soulmate's new message states: "i've already run out of room to write on my arms, and i'd rather not have to get more creative with writing spots. text me?" and then he wrote down a string of numbers.

My heart jumps to my throat as I fly out of my chair to my nightstand, and I almost break my charger cord yanking it out of my phone. I force myself to slow down and take a deep breath, then open my phone, carefully enter in the digits written on my thigh, and type out a simple, yet effective message: "hey. it's your soulmate." A reply comes almost instantly: "how do i know for sure?" Grinning and shaking my head at his silliness, I snatch up my marker from my desk and write out my own number underneath his on my thigh. My phone buzzes in my hand, and I see another message from my soulmate: "alright that confirms it" with an emoji sticking out his tongue next to it. I shake my head again, then flop onto my bed.

I debate what to type out next, but another message from him comes in first. "so, shall we start with introductions? i don't want to just leave you saved as 'soulmate' in my phone." My blood runs cold as I realize what being connected means for me, and I'm barely able to type out a reply to my soulmate due to shaking hands. I feel like I'm ruining everything, typing my message, but I send it anyway: "i'm sorry, i'm not exactly 'out-of-the-closet' yet, so i'd prefer for us to stay anonymous until i'm ready. i'm sorry."

I practically hold my breath until his reply comes in. "that's totally cool. my friends don't know i'm gay, either". But before i even begin another response, another message appears from him. "wait, you are a guy right?" I roll my eyes, but smile a bit. "yes, you spork," I respond.

After discussing my choice of pet name, the rest of our conversation is spent figuring out where we live, because "what if you live in like germany or something and i'm all the way over here in america?" I'm surprised to find out we actually live in the same area, and even more surprised we go to the same high school (subsequently deducing we are both 17). This furthers my decision to not share our names, because I can't afford for my secret to accidentally get out. Even though I trust my soulmate, he might share my identity with his friends and the whole school would know about me by the end of the day. Like I told him, I'm just not ready to be so open about myself to everyone.

When I notice the clock turn midnight, I reluctantly cut our conversation short. We say our goodbyes, promising to chat again tomorrow, and I begin to climb into bed when I remember my decorated arms and legs. So, I hop into my shower, cringing at the loud water destined to wake my parents, and begin to scrub my ink marks off my body. Of course, the markings my soulmate wrote wouldn't come off my body until he scrubbed them off his.

And then I notice they _are_ starting to fade. I try not to think about my soulmate in the shower, too, his naked body dripping with hot, _hot_ water, creating steam, shrouding his body as he washes away his writing with his long, thin fingers, running across his _wet_ skin, maybe trailing a bit too far north from his thighs-

After a little more time in the shower, _ahem_ , I turn off the water and towel myself dry. I carefully step outside my shower, and then I let the towel fall from my hips as I study my body in the mirror. Not in vain, but not in self-loathing, either. Truth is I don't really care much about my body one way or another. But tonight, I study it carefully; I search for anything I know wasn't there before, anything I know that belongs to my soulmate. I find a few birthmarks, a few stretchmarks, but nothing more than that. I wonder if my soulmate is doing the same thing, finding my scars and birthmarks.

Smiling, I return back to my adjoining bedroom and slip on a new pair of boxer shorts before climbing into bed. Just as I do, I notice more writing on my leg - on my thigh, just above my knee, a sentence with an arrow pointing to the bruise I had gotten from running into a table: "oh, yeah, you can thank this little guy for everything."

A/N: hey guys! so sorry it took over a month to get this chapter up, i was away from home for a while last week so that contributed to the long wait as well as just writing and editing. i hope you enjoyed this update; i decided to take a bit of inspiration from simon vs the homo sapiens agenda (AMAZING book if you haven't read it yet, def recommend), so that's where the anon correspondance idea comes in. as always, fav, follow, and review if you feel so inclined, it always means so much to me to see people enjoy my writing. ~l


	3. Chapter 3

phil's pov

My alarm angrily goes off the next morning, and after groggily opening my eyes, I glare at the iPhone on my nightstand screaming the marimba melody before shutting it off. I rub my eyes and face, throw on my glasses, and reluctantly swing my legs out of bed - then pause as I notice them. It takes a second for the events of last night to come back to me; the bruise, the writing. The soulmate. I hope he saw the last message I wrote after I got out of the shower, but regardless, I have to erase it.

I get out of bed completely now and shuffle outside my bedroom into the hallway, and then into the bathroom I used to share with my brother before he went off to college. I lock the door and use the bathroom, brush my teeth, and wash my face. After rinsing most of the soap out of it, I take the damp rag and rub my leg to get my pen markings off my thigh. My brain seems to be fully awake now, and I let myself think about what happened last night. It still feels totally surreal; there's a guy out there who I'm meant to be with for the rest of my life. And I talked to him just 7 hours ago for the first time.

I want to tell everybody, but there's two glaring problems with that: one, no one knows I'm gay, and two, he'd asked to stay anonymous. I can't pressure him into revealing his identity to me by having everyone running around talking about how I'm gay and have a soulmate but don't know who he is. I suppose i could tell my parents, but - no, they'd talk about it too, and besides, they'd ask questions about him. How can I tell them I don't know my own soulmate's name?

So I resign myself to keep my connection to myself for now. I exit the bathroom and go back to my own room, finish getting ready for school, and head downstairs.

"Hey, Mom," I say when I enter the kitchen.

Okay, all those cheesy movies that depict the stereotypical American family, the little sister sitting with the perfect parents, in the kitchen with a full spread of pancakes, bacon, eggs, and fresh fruit in front of them, only for the teenage son to rush downstairs, grab a sole banana, and run off claiming how he'll be late for school? Totally unrealistic.

My kitchen isn't the perfectly clean, bright, beautiful kitchen always shown, there's no perfect family waiting for me, and there's no abundant display of food just waiting to be eaten. The kitchen counter is littered with crumbs, day old coffee rings, aluminum corners of packaged food wrappers, and half-full glasses, dirty plates, and dirty utensils from last night's dinner. The sun has only barely crested the horizon, showering my kitchen in that soft orange glow but mixing with the harsh halogen ceiling lights to drown it in that ugly beige color. Even if my kitchen was shining with that magical, picturesque movie lighting, it wouldn't dazzle you anyway. The cabinets are a regular shade of deep brown, the stainless steel refrigerator and sink have already begun to dull, and the marble countertops already started to chip away with years of use. And the only one welcoming me downstairs is my mother, my father already off to work and my older brother away at college.

She looks up from the dining table, clean only because we moved everything leftover from dinner to the counter last night, where she's sipping her coffee and reading the newspaper. She offers me a distracted "Good morning, hon'," as she returns to reading. I set my bag on the table and make myself a quick bowl of cereal before joining her, glancing at the clock to gauge how much time I can spend eating breakfast before I have to go.

When I sit at the table across from her, my mom looks up again and finally seems to register my presence. "How are you this morning?" She asks.

"I'm alright," I answer with a little shrug - it's absolutely killing me not to tell her about my soulmate. I know many kids my age don't really tell their parents anything, but I've never felt the need to hide things from them. It's not like I do drugs, go to parties, or have sex all the time; I have nothing to hide. With shock, I realize how hypocritical that is of me, and make a sudden decision:

"Actually, um, I need to tell you something."

At this, my mom closes her paper after a moment's pause, to finish a sentence I presume, and gives me her full attention. "Of course, sweetie, what is it?"

"Uh, well.." I'm not really sure how to start. I mean, does it really have to be this big deal everyone says it is? I decide to just say it: "I'm gay."

My mom's eyebrows immediately raise as her eyes widen. "Oh." Her eyes then soften. "Okay. Thanks for telling me, Phil." She smiles a bit before standing up, then walks around the table behind my chair and wraps her arms around me from behind to squeeze me tight. "I love you," she says softly in my ear.

"I love you, too," I murmur back, and a moment later she sits back down.

"Why did you decide to tell me this now?" She implores, leaning toward me with her arms crossed on the table, a mischievous twinkle in her eye beginning to appear.

I shrug again. "I just... wanted you to know," I finish lamely.

"Okay. Okay," she says again. "It's almost time for school," she adds, as casually as if we were just talking about the weather. Which is exactly what I wanted. And just one of the many reasons why I love my mother, for being so cool about anything I could throw at her.

After glancing at my phone again, I realize she's right; I only have a few minutes before I normally would leave. Quickly, I finish eating my cereal as my mom returns to reading, then wash out my bowl and exit through the garage door after giving my mom a hug from behind, not unlike the one she gave me just minutes earlier.

As I get into my car, thoughts of my soulmate once again return to my mind. Is this what it's like? I don't even know this person and already my thoughts are consumed by him. I decide to send him a text before I set off to school, simply saying "hey, good morning" and then leaving my phone in the cupholder. A minute later, as I'm turning out of my neighborhood, I hear my phone buzz. I look down for half a second to check my phone, then a horn blares and my head immediately snaps up, my hands automatically readjusting my car back into my lane from where I had drifted. As the car I almost crashed into passes, he comically flips me off - and rightfully so. I wait until I get to the school's additional parking lot in the back of the school five minutes later and park my car before I check my phone.

"morning, excited for another fun day at school?" I can practically hear his dry voice coming from the seat next to me, and I can just picture this becoming a daily thing: us driving to school together and him sarcastically asking if I'm excited for school before we leave. I grin and reply, "you know it," and after a moment, shoot him another text: "you'll never guess what i did this morning."

I slip my phone into my back pocket and clamber out of my car, grab my bag from the backseat, and start the few minute walk around the school to the main entrance. Only a few moments later, my phone buzzes in my pocket. Grinning, I pull it out and squint against the sun's reflection on my phone to read it, but my heart sinks as I see it's only a snapchat from a guy in my grade - probably just him doing his streaks. I'm about to put my phone back when it buzzes again in my hand, this time, a text from my soulmate. I quickly open my phone to read: "yeah? i guess you'll just have to tell me, then." I think I detect a flirtatious note, but he's so casual about it, I can't tell. So I just say, "i came out to my mom."

I leave my phone open a few moments longer, hoping he's still on his phone, and - yes! I see the typing bubbles pop up. After a second, his message comes in, "wow, really? how'd that go?" "yeah, i realized i probably should. getting connected to you inspired me. and it went surprisingly well, she was super cool about it," I reply.

"that's awesome, i probably will too eventually but i'm sure my parents will be a lot less cool about it," he says a minute later. "oh, that sucks, im sorry :( let me know how it goes if you decide to".

That's the end of the conversation for now, which is just as well, because I'm almost at the front of the school. I join the crowd of kids streaming into the doors, and as I pass through the threshold, I can't help but look around at my classmates and wonder which one is my soulmate.

A/N: hey guys! sorry it took like 2 months to get another chapter up :/, you know how life can get. if you havent already, please check out the other things i've published in between posting the last chapter and this one, it would really mean a lot to me! as always, please review this fic with what you think about it and fav or follow if you'd like to as well, i love seeing people enjoying my stuff. last thing before i end this, my pm inbox has been pretty empty these past few months so it would be super cool if one of you would shoot me a message; i miss talking to people on here. ~l


	4. Chapter 4

dan's pov

I walk through the halls on the way to the cafeteria, surveying my classmates and wondering which one could be my soulmate. It's crazy that one of these people I spend 7 hours with nearly every day is that _one_ person I'm supposed to be with for the rest of my life. I know I should be feeling excited, anxious, happy, that I've gotten connected, but honestly all I feel is apprehension. There are only a few thousand people at my school, which means I know most everyone in my graduating class. And I don't like a good many of them.

It took me an embarrassingly long amount of time to find my small group of friends (sophomore year *cough cough*) that I really clicked with. Everyone else leading up to then were just casual friends, acquaintances - probably because I don't like the majority of my grade, hence my apprehension to discovering who my soulmate is. Imagine if it turned out my soulmate was someone who had bullied me in middle school? I don't know how I could learn to love him.

Speak of the devil, I see Addison and his group of losers that follow him around everywhere and agree with everything he says (literally the Draco Malfoy and Crabbe & Goyle of my school) as I walk through the cafe. I catch his eye and he sneers at me as I pass him - what an asshole. I fight the urge to roll my eyes. Thankfully, a moment later I arrive at my table where my three favorite people in the world are sitting - Beck, Colin, and Evan.

"What is up, my dudes," I greet them.

"Eh, not much," Beck replies with a shrug. Colin and Evan then burst out laughing from looking at something on Evan's phone. I slip into a seat next to Evan in the circular table and nudge him.

"What?" I ask warily, leaning over his shoulder to peer at the phone.

It restarts and I watch the video he found on Instagram from one of the hundred meme accounts he follows, and I laugh with them at the end. We just hang out and talk about nothing for the next five minutes until we really can't put off going to class any longer. We finally stand up and part ways and I start walking across the school, ignoring everyone in the halls just as much as they ignore me, and I barely slip into my first period class before the bell rings. As I sit at my desk in the front (believe me, not my decision - stupid assigned seats), Mr. Griffith stands up and starts class. It's funny how, almost immediately after he starts talking, my ears stop working. Which is actually really unlike me.

Normally I quite like going to school, learning new things and engaging in conversations and activities about those things, but this new thing I learned about my soulmate and my connection is consuming my mind. I can't concentrate. I go through the motions, taking out my chromebook when he says to and typing down everything on each slide of his boring presentation, but my brain doesn't actually retain any of the information. I mean really, how am I expected to listen to Mr. Griffith drone on about Louis the XIV when my soulmate is in this building, maybe even in this classroom, maybe even sitting right next to me?!

I glance to my left and right and then immediately dismiss that thought, seeing as they're both girls. But I end up doing that every period.

In every class I enter, I survey my classmates and keep a mental tally of possible candidates. Aiden in AP World History, Logan in Precalculus, Matt in Chem Honors? What about Dillon in AP Lit, or Ryan in gym? (God, I hope it's him, he's so hot - I would date him just for his legs alone).

Even as I do this, I know it's futile. There could be what, a hundred different kids in all my classes? There are hundreds more that aren't in any of my classes, kids I haven't even met yet. It would be naive to think I'm actually creating a good list of guys that could have been on the receiving end of my messages last night. All throughout the day, I'm a total wreck. I'm off in my own little world, barely even talking to anyone except for a few distracted replies to peers and muttered reassurances to my friends that I'm fine at lunch. At the end of the day, I haven't learned anything, I may have convinced my friends that I'm suicidal, and I'm completely dreading but also extremely anxious for dinner tonight. Oh yeah, did I mention I'm planning to come out to my parents tonight? Must've slipped my mind. Hm. I wonder why.

I haven't talked to my soulmate all day ever since this morning when he told me about him coming out, so I decide it's my turn. Well, maybe not quite that abrupt, so first I just send him a text saying _hey, how was your day?_ on the way to my car in the senior parking lot behind the school.

He replies within the minute: _not bad, normal haha. how bout you?_

I consider just saying "fine" and leaving it at that, but hey, it's my soulmate! If I can be honest with anyone, it's him: _actually, it pretty much sucked haha,_ I reply, _i couldnt concentrate cause i was thinking about you the whole time_

 _ahw really?_

 _yeah._ I smile and insert an emoji to reflect that, then continue typing: _also, i think im gonna come out to my parents tonight_

 _wait really?_

 _yeah lol. you inspired me too :)_

By now I'm at my car, and I climb into the driver's seat with my face glued to my phone.

He responds, _well, glad to be of service. let me know how it goes!_

I hear a door slam suddenly and I look up to see a boy with floppy black hair getting settled into the car I had pulled in next to this morning. Something about him pulls my attention; I glance at him in the corners of my eyes as I type out my response: _yep, ofc_

I feel his gaze through the thick panes of glass between us and look up to see him looking at me. Our eyes lock and he stares for just a moment too long, then drops his head and starts typing on his phone. I brush it off, put my phone in the cupholder, and start the car. A message comes in a few seconds later from my soulmate: _great, talk to you later_

I glance back out the window at the boy next to me - Paul, I think his name is - to find him staring intently at me again. I hold his gaze, and a thought creeps its way into my mind: _could he be-?_ But I don't let myself finish the thought. I have other things to worry about, including my impending coming out scene at dinner tonight. Once again, I brush it off, put my car into reverse, look behind me, and back out of the spot.

* * *

phil's pov

I'm walking a few car lengths behind a boy on the other side of the street after school when a message comes in from my soulmate. He's just asking about my day, and I respond while looking ahead at the brunette. I think his name is Dan, but I can't be sure; we've only had a few classes together over the last few years and we don't have any together this semester. I watch him the entire way to the parking lot, and maybe it's just wishful thinking, but I swear he starts typing on his phone after each message I send to my soulmate.

We reach the lot and he gets in the car right next to mine. I get into my own car and continue to gaze at the curly-haired boy. Suddenly he looks up and our eyes meet, and the first thing I notice is that - he's beautiful. I definitely would not mind him being my soulmate, I think. I begin to realize how creepy I'm being, just staring at him through our windows, so I quickly drop my head and see he's sent me another text. I type my reply as I hear his car rumble to life, and after I send it I look back over at him. He's looking at his phone, then he glances back up at me. I'm about two seconds away from doing something, saying something, anything, when he drops the gaze and drives away.

A/N: hey guys! thanks so much for reading, i hope you liked this chapter. sorry it took so long to get done! as always, fav, follow, and review if you want please, i love seeing people enjoying my work :) ~l


	5. Chapter 5

phils pov

I watch maybe-Dan pull out of the parking space as my heart sinks. The feeling of a metal ball growing heavier in my gut deepens with the distance between my car and maybe-Dan's car driving away, and I realize how insane I'm being. Just because it _looked_ like he was typing on his phone after I sent messages to my soulmate, which I noticed only because I creepily watched him for several minutes, and because I felt some weird attraction to him (yeah, those are called hormones, thanks, puberty) suddenly he's my soulmate?

Forcing myself to get a fucking grip, I shake off the encounter, steel myself, and drive home. But I just can't shake off the feeling, that gut instinct deep within myself that's practically screaming at me to listen to what it's saying. So on the ride back to my house, I decide there's no harm in doing a little investigating. I mean, I should at _least_ know for sure this boy's name if I'm considering the possibility of being with him for the rest of my life.

A few minutes later, I'm pulling into my driveway and haphazardly parking my car in the garage. I don't brake as soon as I should, and my back slams into the seat as I'm jolted around the car by my sudden stop. I get out and take my backpack out of the backseat, then, slinging it over my shoulder and sighing at my shitty park job, I shut the car doors a bit too forcefully and enter my house.

My mom is at work by now, and both my parents won't be home for another couple of hours. It's nice having the house to myself; I like the peace and quiet I didn't usually have as a kid. I walk through the kitchen, grabbing a box of crackers from the cabinet as I go, and head upstairs into my room. I toss my backpack onto my bed and then sit down at my desk. There's a bookshelf next to it, and I wheel my rolly chair to the edge of the chair mat and lean over the armrest to scan the shelves.

My eyes glance over my favorite novels and comics, books I've read for class (and haven't touched since), video games, and other assorted trinkets decorating the bookshelf until I find my yearbook from last year. I reach over and ease it out, then bring it into my lap and roll back over to the center of my desk. I flip through it, skimming the pages until I reach the "People" section. Faces flash before me, and I try to associate the awkward school photos with that boy from today. Finally, one picture jumps out at me and my brain instantly makes the connection; my eyes flit to the side of the page, and there his name is listed.

I was right. It's Dan.

Dan Howell. _Daniel_ Howell. Daniel. Dan.

I smile slightly and then my eyes drift back over to his picture, his quirky smile just barely showing his teeth, his not-quite-done hair with a curl out of place, his faded black t-shirt no doubt having some band's album cover on it. Finally satisfied with at least knowing this boy's name, I close the yearbook and replace it on my shelf. But I wish I can say that's the last of my investigating today. I'm ashamed to admit I _may_ have done a little bit *cough cough* more investigating.

I scour the school website, the local paper, and just straight up google his name for anything else I can find on him. I find his parents Facebook's, his private Instagram (damn), and some other people's social media's who are either friends or relatives of his, along with a couple articles relating to him. I discover he is or was a part of a local music group where he played keyboard by an outdated announcement from the venue. I discover he and his parents are members of a Catholic church in the area from the church's newsletter listing names of those confirmed from several years ago. And I discover he got third place in a short film festival's teen division a few years ago from the organization's website. After deciding I've found everthing I can from literally _stalking_ this boy online, I pick up my phone, open Instagram, and request to follow him.

I instantly regret it. Panic starts to set in. He saw me after school today, too; what if he knows I was stalking him? Why else would I just randomly request to follow him?! I glance at the clock and realize it's been an hour since school ended. I've been stalking this guy. For an hour. I look back at my computer open at my desk, displaying all of Dan's achievements and relationships, his _life_ , and I begin closing all the tabs in disgust. Hopefully, now that it's been an hour he won't make the connection and think I'm weird, just searching for him on Instagram. I sigh and flop onto my bed, waiting.

* * *

dans pov

I'm laying on the couch in my living room watching Netflix (as usual) when a notification from Instagram pops up: _[danielhowell]: Phil Lester ( amazingphil) has requested to follow you._ I look at it in confusion for a second as I try to think of anyone I know named Phil. I can't place the name, so I leave the request to deal with later and return to watching an episode of Friends I've already seen a thousand times. 10 minutes later, after it's over, I close Netflix and return to my kitchen for more snacks, opening Instagram as I do so. Clicking over to the page, I open this Phil guy's profile to check it out. His name is listed in his bio as well as the name of my school and the year he graduates. It's the same as mine, so he must be in my grade; I click _confirm_ on the request and also request to follow him.

About a minute later as I'm munching on some Goldfish, I see he has accepted my request so I tap on his profile once again. He only has a few posts, mostly boring nature pics from past vacations, but he also posted some pictures from homecoming last year, a large group of guys with only a few girls, which isn't surprising. A lot of people think it's kind of pointless to go out with someone if you haven't gotten connected yet, and at our age not many people have. I scan the picture and recognize many of them, and then I get to the guy on the far right and- it's the guy from today. In the car. Next to mine. With the staring. And the typing. And the suspicion, the feeling, that this boy is my soulmate.

The Goldfish lay abandoned on my kitchen table as I rush upstairs to my room. I grab my yearbook from last year from one of my desk drawers and quickly flip through the pages to find Phil Lester, the name listed in the bio. And- there he is. Philip Lester, page 154. I stare at his lopsided grin, his floppy black hair, his pressed blue button-down that perfectly brings out the color of his eyes. He's beautiful. I smile as I gaze down at him, then I close the yearbook and ridiculously hug it close to my chest like a wistful teenage girl in love. Well, I'm a teenage _boy_ in love so I guess- wait. In love? I don't even know him!

Carefully, I take my yearbook and flip it open to the page again. When I glance down at his smiling face again, I know. I know he's my soulmate. I can't explain it. I just... I do! I almost laugh out loud with glee. I guess the universe really knows what it's doing, I think with a small smile.

I close the yearbook and put it on the corner of my desk, certain I'll be opening it again just to look at him once more tonight. We can't be together yet, because I know I'll have to work on my super religious parents first and tell them about everything. But I'm going to tell them tonight. Maybe not all of it, but at least tell them I'm gay. It won't be easy. I glance at my yearbook, then my phone, knowing that he's only a text message or a phone call away. Talking to my parents won't be easy. Being open about myself to my friends, to my school, my community, won't be easy. But I have to. For myself. For Phil.

A/N: hey guys! hope you enjoyed this chapter. as always fav, follow, and review! i'm getting really excited about this fic. so much so that i'm writing instead of studying for finals this week. wish me luck guys. ~l


	6. Chapter 6

dans pov

I sit at my desk doing homework for another few hours; it takes forever because I have to reteach myself all the material I was supposed to learn in class today. I become increasingly aware of the minutes passing by the entire time. I try not to glance at the clock, but each notification I get on my phone only draws attention to the passing time and the looming deadline of dinner getting closer. Finally, around 6 o'clock I hear my mom's car pull into the driveway, and I glance out the window to see her parking in the garage. I take a deep breath. This is it.

It's routine by now, almost the end of September, that every Thursday my mom goes into the office and stays for a meeting she has at 4 pm. She's some kind of businesswoman, I actually don't really know what she does, but she meets with her boss and coworkers every week for something (again, I don't really know). Then she stops on the long commute home to pick up takeout for dinner, and my dad gets home just a few minutes after she does.

And here my mom is. With the takeout. For dinner.

I reluctantly close my laptop, resigning to finish my lab report later, and head downstairs. My mom is bustling into the kitchen with a bag from my favorite pizza place swinging around wildly at her hips. "Hi, Dan!" She exclaims when she sees me, a smile spreading across her face.

"Hi, Mom," I reply weakly, trying and failing to match her upbeat attitude. My mom is usually very busy every week with her work, so she tries to make the little time we can spend together enjoyable. Even if she didn't have a meeting, she'd still be busy working in her home office in the basement, a low effort pot roast simmering in the Crock-Pot upstairs all day. The only good thing about the meeting is she's forced to go into the office, can't make dinner, and brings home a delicious meal from a restaurant we don't usually go to.

Tonight, it's our usual meal of pizza and garlic bread from a cute little Italian place I love near my mom's office building. She sets the bag on the counter and pulls out two small pizza boxes and a lone box of bread. "This is it?" I ask in confusion.

"Yes," she replies and looks at me. "Your father isn't joining us tonight, remember?"

With a jolt I remember that my dad, some kind of salesman (again, don't really know - you should get the idea by now), is having dinner with a client tonight. My heart sinks. I was all prepared to come out tonight, and now half the people won't even be here! I make a snap decision to tell them tomorrow night instead; I don't want to go through this twice. Besides, I want to tell my dad on my own terms, not my mom simply relaying the message to him, but it's not him I'm really worried about. I think my dad will be a lot more accepting, and I want him there when I tell my mom, who's more conservative and will probably be more intolerant about it.

"Well don't just stand there, come help me with this!"

I hurriedly get out plates and silverware to help my mom set the little table in the kitchen. After a minute, we sit down and I pile my plate with a few slices of pizza and bread. "So, how was your day?" My mom asks with a smile before taking a small bite of her fancy vegetable pizza.

I swallow thickly. "Fine, I guess," I respond. "What about you, how was work?"

That's all I need to say. My mom starts going on about her coworkers, who sound like complete morons from her perspective, and her annoying boss who doesn't know how to do anything. Maybe that's why I know nothing about her job; I start tuning out everything she says (that seems to be a theme of today). Once there's a small lull in the conversation and I realize she's done ranting for now, I ask something about a promotion she was talking about last week and she starts again. I don't mind it, I'm not much of a talker, and it seems she really needed someone to listen to her tonight, especially because my dad is out.

A few minutes later, she trails off with nothing more to say. "Sorry," she says with a little laugh, "I'm just rambling on. How's school going? I know you said it was fine-" she rolls her eyes "-but what about your classes? Are they going okay?"

"Yeah, I guess," I reply noncommittally. "We did a cool lab in Chem today." I shrug.

"Yeah? And how are your grades doing?" She asks earnestly.

"Good, A's and B's."

"Good."

I finish off my last slice of pizza.

"Well, I'm going to go finish up an assignment. Did you do your homework?"

"Almost done," I sigh.

She smiles a tight-lipped smile and puts her dishes in the dishwasher, disappearing downstairs in an instant. I sigh again, toss my plate in the sink, and retreat back to my room.

* * *

phils pov

I wait for a message from my soulmate all night, but at 10 pm still nothing has come in. I've been worrying about it for him the entire afternoon, and I just can't wait any longer:

 _hey, did you do it? how did it go?_

I cringe at how stupid my message sounds but send it anyway. A reply comes in after a minute:

 _oh shit, i'm so sorry, i forgot to tell you. my dad is at some stupid meeting tonight so i decided to do it tomorrow_

 _oh okay, nbd. lmk how it goes tomorrow!  
_

I wish I could ask him more questions about himself, but how am I supposed to do that over a text message? And if he won't even tell me his name (although I'm sure I already know it), he probably wouldn't even pick up a phone call, let alone meet in person.

 _sure, ofc - good night_ his next message states.

I bite my lip and type: _night, dan_

My finger hesitates over the send button for a few seconds that stretch until what feels like an eternity until finally I delete the last word before sending it.

A great exhale escapes my chest and I relax into my chair, rubbing a hand down my face. I hate this. I know it's incredibly selfish; but, he's coming out tomorrow so, we can be together soon. I hope.

A/N: hey guys! i know this chapter isn't the best or most exciting but hopefully you still liked it. i hope everyone had a merry christmas and happy new year! i go back to school this week, kms. finals went well despite my lack of studying and i hope you all did well too! as always, fav, follow, and review please :) ~l


	7. Chapter 7

phils pov

The next morning passes by like it does every day; I get dressed and gather my things, have a quick breakfast, and drive to school. When I get there, I park in my usual space, and then I glance over to the empty spot next to mine - Dan parked there yesterday, and I can't help but wonder if he will again today.

I like having time in the mornings to talk to friends in the hallways and make sure I'm not late to class, so I get to school earlier than most of the other seniors. I wait for a few minutes until the rush of cars starts, around 15 minutes before class begins. Dan still hasn't arrived yet, so I reluctantly get out of my car and wrench open the door to the backseat. Then suddenly, I spot it. His black minivan. Turning into the parking lot. I rummage around in my backpack until Dan pulls into the space, and I zip up my bag and slip it onto my shoulders as I stand. I look up through the windows of our cars, much like yesterday afternoon, and again, our eyes meet.

This time, Dan offers a small smile through the glass, and I return the little grin as butterflies flitter around happily in my stomach, wanting to burble up out of me. My eyes fall shyly, and I shut the door and begin to walk to the school. Then I hear my name. "Hey, Phil!" Someone calls. I turn and see Dan bustling up to me. He stops in front of me and seems unsure of what to do now. "Er, it _is_ Phil, right?" He asks.

I repress a grin. "Yeah." I turn halfway toward the school, also unsure of what to say. He follows my lead and we start walking together.

"We, uh, had Bio together last year," he starts again.

"Yeah. " I'm kicking myself; this is my soulmate, and I'm barely able to push out a single syllable answer?! At least, I'm fairly certain it's my soulmate. "Dan, right?"

That silly little smile spreads across his face again. "Yeah," he confirms.

"Mr. Shay really was the worst, wasn't he?" I try to ask a question that won't warrant a one-word reply.

"Oh, God, yes!" Dan laughs. "Jesus, he really should _not_ be a teacher."

The sidewalk suddenly drops off as we begin walking around the side of the school, so I step down off the curb and onto the side of the empty road. Dan steps down next to me, but in doing so, his hand swings down and accidentally brushes against mine. Tingles explode across the back of my hand. My breath catches; not noticeably, I hope.

I realize it's been a few seconds since I've spoken. "So, what do you have for science this year?" He replies with something about chemistry, and it turns out we have the same teacher but are in different classes. We discuss the lab we did in class a few days ago and our other classes for a few minutes until we get to the front. I lead the way through the doors, into the stream of students also coming in.

"Well it was nice talking to you. See ya, Phil," he says with the tiniest wave as he turns down the main hallway toward the cafeteria.

"See ya," I reply, and I go upstairs towards my first class. Normally my friends hang out down the hall from it. There are only a few of them in the usual spot, Dillon, Matt, and Tyler.

"Hey, guys," I say as I approach them.

"Oh, hey!" Dillon turns to me. "Where were you?"

"Just talking to a classmate," I dismiss him. The reminder of Dan now prompts me to ask him what I had been wondering all day yesterday after my, uh, investigating. "Er, can I ask you something?" I say to Dillon as Matt and Tyler resume their conversation about some sports game this weekend.

"Sure, what's up?" He asks with a furrowed brow. I'm about to ask about his connection when Tyler elbows Dillon.

"Dillon." Tyler's head jerks to the side.

Dillon and I follow his gaze down the hall, and I see Isabel walking with her friend Kelsey toward us. A second later, Isabel sees our group and her face immediately brightens, throwing a smile Dillon's way. "Sorry, can we talk later?" Dillon says distractedly to me.

"Sure, go be with your girlfriend," I roll my eyes. "Want to hang out tonight?"

Dillon nods, already leaving. He turns, walking backward and almost running over a few bewildered freshmen, and yells something about dropping by my place. I nod and roll my eyes again. He treats my house as a second home most times, and his is mine as well, although I would never just drop by unannounced (which he has done on several occasions). But tonight, I won't mind. He's the only person I know well who's gotten connected - maybe I can get some more answers.

* * *

Later, that afternoon, I'm anxiously waiting for Dillon to get here at my house. He sent me a text after school saying he'd drop by in about a half hour, and it's already been nearly 45 minutes. I've known Dillon since middle school, so I know this isn't unusual behavior. But it's quite annoying when I'm planning to ask him some serious questions.

Finally, I hear car tires squeal in my driveway. My phone buzzes again as Dillon texts me - _here._ I cross through the kitchen and open the front door to see him standing there on his phone, his backpack slung over his shoulder. "Hey!" He looks up and smiles, slipping his phone into his back pocket; I step back and he follows me in, shutting the door behind him.

"Your parents home?" Dillon asks as I lead him upstairs to my room, where we usually do our studying.

"Nope, both still at work," I reply. "They should be home soon though, why, how long are you planning on staying?"

"Not long, I actually don't have too much homework today," he says happily. We get to my room and assume our usual places, me on my bed and him sitting on the floor by my desk. "Unless, it depends on what you wanted to talk about?" He raises an eyebrow at me expectantly.

"Right," I begin while he rummages in his backpack, taking out a wrinkled sheet of paper. He snatches a textbook off my floor, places the paper on it, and starts to scrawl across it with a pencil that seemingly appeared from nowhere. After a few seconds, he looks up at me again.

"Go on," he muses.

"Jesus." I sigh in exasperation but also start taking out some worksheets due tomorrow as I start again. "Well, I just wanted to ask a few things about your connection."

"Oh. Okay, sure." He sounds a little surprised, but I continue:

"Did you ever get a, a _feeling_ , almost, that you were meant to be with Isabel?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like, after you got connected. When I told you, or when you saw her, or, or touched her for the first time after you knew - did it feel, I don't know, _right?"_

He looks up at me curiously. "Yeah, I guess so," he considers. "Yeah, actually. When I saw her a few days ago, across the cafeteria, after you told me? I definitely got this, like, gut feeling in my stomach that told me you were right. Oh, and when Matt made me go talk to her? I never really told you guys what happened then." I shake my head. "Basically, I showed her my arm with her drawings on it. She touched them, and I got this weird, like, tingly feeling." I think of when Dan brushed my hand this morning. "It must be that weird skin thing the connection is, like when the two connected bodies meet, that tie just like, I don't know, freaks out." He laughs. I'm hanging onto his every word. I never realized how deep Dillon's connection went after just a few days with Isabel.

Then he looks at me with a funny look in his face, and I practically hear the puzzle pieces click together in his mind. "Wait, why are you asking?" Dillon asks, and he gasps. "Did you get connected?!"

My mouth falls open, and I do my best acting. "What?! No," I protest.

Dillon jumps up from the floor. "Oh, you totally did!" He exclaims. "Come on, who is he?!"

I still. I swing my legs over the side of my bed and look straight up into his face. "Wait... what did you just say?"

"Who is he?!" Dillon doesn't notice my surprise at the correct pronoun.

"You... you _know?"_

"Know what? _Oh..."_ He finally realizes what I'm getting at. He sits on my desk chair and faces me. "Right. You mean, how do I know you're gay?" He says gently.

"Yes," I say, probably looking like a drag queen with how high my eyebrows are.

"Well, I'm sorry, Phil, I know you never really told me, but, I mean, it's pretty obvious." He bites his lip to stop a smile. "At least to me. I've known you for _years_ , and to put it simply, I've never seen you show _any_ interest in a girl our entire friendship."

"Okay, I get that." I do that not-quite-laugh exhale. "Do the others know?"

Dillon gives me a look. "Are you kidding?"

"Okay, so that's a no. And... you're, you're okay with it?"

I immediately regret saying it. Dillon's eyes go comically wide, a deep cavern leading me to the hurt buried beneath the surprise. "Phil... of course I am. Come on, we're best friends! Nothing you could tell me would ever bother me. Unless you tell me you're like a murderer or something. But maybe if it was just like a one-time thing, then I might help you hide-"

"Dillon!"

"Right, not important. Unless it is."

"I did not murder someone!"

"Okay, okay. Good. What were we talking about?"

"...You're joking, right?"

"God, Phil, yes! But yeah, of course, I'm fine with it. And I'm sure our friends will be, too, if you want to tell them. Maybe not some other people you don't really know, but fuck them, eh?"

I smile despite it all.

"Thanks for telling me, by the way."

"You already knew!"

"Yeah, but still."

"Thank you, too." He pulls me into a good old-fashioned Joey-and-Chandler hug. A few seconds later I sit back on my bed and he takes his spot back on the floor until he jumps up again.

"Wait! You never told me who your soulmate is!"

I raise my eyebrows and he sheepishly sits back down. "Okay, about that," I begin. "Dillon, you have to keep this a secret, okay? He's not, you know, _out_ yet, so he hasn't told me who he is yet. Alright?"

"Okay... but you have to have _some_ idea of who he is, right? Otherwise you wouldn't have asked me about all that stuff!"

I shake my head. "You're right, I _do_ think I know who he is, but I'm sorry, Dil, I'm not gonna tell you. He deserves that privacy until he's ready."

"Alright," Dillon gripes good-naturedly. "But you promise, the second he tells you, you'll tell me?"

"Yes, fine." I roll my eyes.

"Sweet!" He gets himself situated in his circle of homework. "Now, do you understand _anyhing_ we're doing in Calc right now?"

A/N: hey guys! thanks so much for reading, i know the last chapter was total crap (hopefully this makes up for it) but i really like how this one turned out! i hope you enjoyed this chapter and are enjoying this story. as always, please fav, follow, and review! ~l


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